Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance (Russian Mob Chronicles Book 1)

The grumbling of my stomach overtakes the sizeable tiger-like yawn ripping through my mouth. Rising from my slumped position, my hand darts up to rub the sleep from my eyes. A waffle-knit blanket my grandma knitted for me when I left for college falls from my body when I scoot to the edge of my bed. With my bladder declaring its desire to be emptied, I must ignore the screams of my temples for more sleep and trudge to the bathroom. The sun beaming into the living room announces it’s morning, but my body is acting as if it has barely slept an hour.

My bare feet are noiseless as I step into the foggy bathroom across from my bedroom. I can’t tell if it’s a hazy morning hampering my vision or the goop in my eyes from a measly few hours of sleep.

After finishing my business, I stand and flush the toilet before shuffling to the sink to wash my hands. I’m so zonked, I don’t register the sound of running water. . .until it’s followed by a loud shriek.

I startle to within an inch of my life when a male voice screams, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

My eyes bulge out of my head when a wet—and head-to-toe naked—Nikolai dives through the shower curtain pulled across my bathtub. With my mind fritzed from a lack of sleep, I completely forgot I have a house guest.

In no time at all, the temperature in the room doubles, the mugginess evenly distributed between the scolding water the flushing toilet caused to Nikolai’s shower, and the magnificent image of him stripped bare.

“Utro, Justine,” he greets me when he notices me standing at the side, gawking without remorse. His voice reeks of attitude, as does his entire composure.

I can understand his cockiness. His body is mind-blowing. Not even the inclusion of an ankle monitor on his right leg can detract from the sweat-producing visual. Droplets of water careen through six indents in his stomach before rolling past a large tattoo weaved around his right hip and halfway down his thigh. The teasing portion of a V muscle I spotted yesterday is on full display, proudly arrowing in on a section of his body that would put any man to shame.

“My god, is that a python?” I question, my words as colorful as my cheeks.

‘It’s a dragon,’ Nikolai corrects, assuming I’m referring to his tattoo.

I’m not. I tried to tear my eyes off his cock. I miserably failed. The instant my eyes deviated past his mid-section, I was thrust into an idiotic trance. I’ve heard the size of a man’s hand is a good predictor of the size of his cock, but I had no idea it was true. Nikolai’s hands are massive, his fingers long and pussy-clenchingly thick.

When he notices the direction of my gaze, the heat in the room doubles. “Be careful, Ahren,” he warns, his words sultry and smooth. “A dragon has never died from a snake bite, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be wary of the snake. Venom isn’t a snake’s only danger.”

My eyes rocket to his face when I witness his cock stiffen. He stares at me, the direction he wants to take our exchange unmissable in his heavy-lidded gaze. The hunger in his eyes is just as wild as it was last night—if not more rampant. He looks like a man about to go on a hunt, and I’m his prime target.

As he slowly advances on me, I shift my eyes to the side, striving to break free from his enthralling aura. My pulse quickens when I catch my reflection in the vanity mirror. Now I understand Nikolai’s unbendable approach. My brain is screaming “No. No. No,” but my blushing cheeks, dilated eyes, and parted lips are clamoring for the opposite. My body is not only screaming “Yes. Yes. Yes,” it’s demanding for him to take me now, immediately, and without pause. My body wants him—badly.

The desires playing havoc with my mind vanish when the glistening of dog bites reflects in the vanity mirror. With the bathroom lit by fluorescent lighting, the scars on my body are more prominent than ever. Their ghastly appearance not only pushes a pledge I made years ago to the forefront of my mind, they also remind me that I’m not worthy of a man as handsome as Nikolai. It may be extremely shallow of me to think this way, but it’s true, and since I place a high value on honesty, it must be adhered to.

Wanting to leave the bathroom before Nikolai discovers the marks on my shoulders are tame compared to the rest, I charge for the door. My frantic pace has me kicking the bin under the vanity sink, but I continue with my mission, my pride too fragile to sustain another rejection.

Air snags in my throat when my exit is outwitted by Nikolai. I wail and kick when he wraps his arm around my waist and draws me to his bare torso. My trepidation has more to do with his reaction to my imperfections than actual fear.

Nikolai’s hot breath fans my ear when he asks, ‘You like what you see, yet you continually deny me. Why?”

“Who says I like what I see?” I snap back, my determination to flee surpassing my manners.

Desire floods my core when Nikolai rocks his hips forward, dragging his erection along the globes of my ass. My eyes bulge when a husky moan unwillingly seeps from my lips.

“Tell me again you don’t like what you see,” he mocks, his tone way too arrogant for my liking. “You want my cock nearly as much as I’m dying to slide it between your lips.”

His words are hoarse, like the thought of me sucking his cock has his mouth drying up.

My lips twitch, preparing to deny his statement, but he pushes his finger against my mouth, foiling my attempts.

“Before you speak, be warned: if you lie to me again, I’ll tie you up and bring you to the brink of climax—over and over again—only stopping when my cum is covering every inch of you. Then I still won’t let you come, no matter how much you beg.”

I sag against his chest as excitement steamrolls through me. Wait, what? When have I ever been aroused by filthy talk?

His erect cock digs into my backside. “I won’t chase someone who doesn’t want to be chased, Ahren. Do you want this? Yes or No.”

I nearly nod, until the quickest glimpse of my reflection swallows my reply.

He’s not the problem. I am.

“No, I don’t.”

Since I’m staring at my reflection, my response sounds honest.

When Nikolai places me on my feet, I keep my eyes front and center, not trusting my lust-driven heart to follow the prompts of my street-smart brain.

Not long later, the shower curtain opening sounds through my ears. I wait a beat, giving my body time to ensure I’m correctly identifying the noise of water running over flesh before I crank my neck back. My hearing didn’t falter. Nikolai is once again in the shower.

Although the sheer curtain does a good job of keeping the water in the tub, it neglects to conceal Nikolai’s core-shuddering frame from my perverted eyes. My core clenches when I follow the water running down his perfect body, only stopping when it reaches his midsection.

I fail to stifle a groan when Nikolai fists his stiffened shaft in his hand. He slides his hand all the way to the base before slowly working it back up to the tip. My brain screams for me to look away, but my heart refuses to comply. The visual of him stroking his cock is. . . I don’t have a word to explain it. Mind-boggling. Hypnotic. I’ll-never-forget-it-out-of-this-world-unreal.

“Why watch when you can join, Ahren?” Nikolai’s voice is as hard-lined as his cock.

It’s the fight of my life to make my eyes snap to the floor when he adjusts his position, awarding me an uninterrupted view of the core-clenching visual. The only reason I do is because of the sheer arrogance pumping out of his eyes. It’s as thick and unforgiving as the veins feeding his magnificent manhood.

“You’re responsible for this, Ahren. Your eyes, your lips, your body.” His strokes quicken with each word he speaks. “I couldn’t sleep thinking about how good you’d feel wrapped around my cock. That’s why I was in the shower—seeking release. If I didn’t do something, I would have slipped under your knitted blanket and taken you while you were sleeping.”

My eyes snap to his as shock rockets through me. How does he know I slept with the blanket my grandmother knitted me when I left for college? I still as another reality smacks into me: my chair wasn’t lodged under the door when I trudged to the bathroom.

I glare at Nikolai, my anger overtaking the lust curtailing me. “You were in my room.” I’m not asking a question. I’m stating a fact.

He winks as his cock thickens more. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re sleeping.”

I roll my eyes, disgusted at both Nikolai and myself. I can’t believe I’ve become so lust-hungry, I’m standing in the bathroom, watching a man stroke his cock, instead of working on a way to ease my family’s turmoil. The perfect solution to end the drama killing my family is standing in front of me, fisting his cock. But instead of seizing the opportunity Nikolai’s arrest presents me with, I’m acting like a lust-crazed idiot more determined to have her pent-up sexual frustration released than her own flesh and blood. My grandmother would be rolling in her grave if she could see me now.

With my head held high, vainly acting uninterested, I spin on my heels and exit the bathroom. Every step I take is a torturous feat.

“If you haven’t finished in twenty minutes, I’m switching off the water heater,” I warn, my voice wielding uncharacteristic wrath.

With that, I shut the bathroom door, locking in the rough chuckles of a mafia prince breathless in ecstasy.